Citadel of Light

    “Why is she so freaked out by the dark?” Shannon demanded.  

    “Hell, I don’t know,” Jamie managed to reply with minimal sarcasm. “Maybe because she's lived in the Citadel her entire life?”       

    “There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just a blackout. It's not like there are dangerous–” 

    “Stop lying Shannon! Have you ever heard of a blackout in the entire history of The Citadel? Well, have you?” The rhetorical question was met with a stone-cold stare. “It was different for us… When we were kids, we both grew up knowing that they are active at night. And it was pitch-black around our homes as soon as the sun went down. Think about it; tonight is the first time in her life Sophie has experienced total darkness–” 

    “I still think Sophie is too old to be scared of the dark, Jamie! And that’s your fault–” 

    “I didn't cause the electrical failure!” 

    “Can I finish a sentence? Thank you. As I was saying, you read her those scary bedtime stories every night. You've made Sophie afraid of her own shadow.”     

    “It's important to read to children,” Jamie said defensively. It was a sensitive point for the couple because Shannon had never learned the skill. Children born in the farmlands were considered lucky if they survived to reach adulthood; literacy was an unimaginable luxury. Jamie was blessed to have been taught how to read as an adult by a kind neighbour, while Shannon – who had a more natural affinity with maths – had quit after one lesson. Sophie, however, was academically gifted and had been reading confidently since she was five. The memories of all the bitter arguments gave Jamie’s voice a hard edge. “Anyway, I have always read age-appropriate books to Sophie. You do know she's eight years old now?” 

    “Of course I know our daughter's age!” Shannon spat. “Don't insult my intelligence.” 

    “It wasn't insulting your intelligence – I was insulting your parenting skills.” 

    “Oh? How very mature of you, Jamie. Perfect timing, as always.” 

    Before Jamie could respond, Sophie called out: “I ... I ... heard something at my window!” and both adults instantly put the old disagreement on hold.  

    Jamie whispered, “Do you think anything could reach us all the way up here? Shouldn’t we be safe on the twelfth floor?”  

    “I'll get the flashlight,” was Shannon’s only response.   

    “Wouldn't a candle be safer?” Jamie replied gently. “It won't attract attention from whoever - or whatever - is outside, like a bright light could.” 

    Both adults knew the danger; even the neighbours could become problematic if they suspected the family had some advantage – such as a stock of emergency equipment – during a time of crisis.   

    Based on the level of darkness across the massive expanse of The Citadel, it was obvious that the fools who managed the emergency bureau had been too arrogant to accept even the remote possibility of an electrical failure. And while Shannon, Jamie, and Sophie had been accepted into the exclusive society of one of the most luxurious apartment buildings ever built within The Citadel, they would never enjoy the level of acceptance that was the birthright of people born to one of the Old Families. 

    Rather, in the event of a real catastrophe the three of them would be considered at best, regrettably expendable – and at worst, a convenient source of sacrificial offerings...    

    Shannon stroked Jamie’s face, as they took a precious moment to reconnect as a couple despite their fear, then Shannon moved swiftly through the rooms of the dark apartment to retrieve a candle from the dining room table. 

    Together they went to comfort their child. 

    “Sophie, we're here, darling,” Jamie murmured.   

    The sight of the small, trembling shape beneath the brightly coloured quilt on the bed was heart-rending.  

    They looked at each other, and as long-term partners sometimes do, communicated with looks rather than words. 

    Shannon went to the window and parted the thick curtains just enough to check for threats, while Jamie easily navigated around the toys on the floor before placing the candle on Sophie’s bedside table. 

    Both adults squinted momentarily against the sudden blaze as the wick crackled and flared into life, but as soon as the candle flame settled into a buttery glow, the child emerged from her fabric sanctuary. 

    Sophie hugged her parents tightly, and they waited silently until their child chose to end the embrace. 

    “Why haven't the lights come back on?” Sophie asked with obvious efforts at self-control. 

    “The truth is”, Shannon answered, “we just don't know, baby. We haven't received any text messages from the emergency bureau ... which is odd.” 

    “But there's nothing to worry about, sweetheart.” Jamie coughed to avoid choking on the lie. “Our apartment building is in the centre of The Citadel. Do you remember when we took you to see The Wall? Do you remember we had to travel for such a long time to reach it?” 

    Sophie showed no reaction to the reassurance or the questions. 

    “That was such a fun day, wasn't it, Sophie?” Shannon asked with forced levity. “When we all climbed right up to the top so we could look out at the farmland. Do you remember that trip?” 

    “Kind of...” the child whispered.  

    “You asked us what the strange animals were,” Shannon prompted. “The ones walking around on the grass.” 

    Sophie almost smiled at the memory. “The coos?” 

    “Cows, baby,” Shannon corrected gently. “The big ones are called cows.” 

    Jamie glanced at Shannon, who silently nodded, so Jamie took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, I remember how huge The Wall is.” The two adults stared into each other's eyes for a heartbeat. “And we were waiting for you to get a bit older before we told you ... but all three of us were born outside The Wall.” 

    “Really?” 

    Shannon nodded, then reached out and grasped Jamie's hand before responding. “Yes, Sophie. I met Jamie when we were both herding the cows, and it was love at first sight. We got married quickly because–” 

    “Because that's how it's done in the farmland,” Jamie interjected firmly. “Life there is very hard. People who live there don't live as long as people who live in the city. And that's why, when you came along, we got special permission to move to The Citadel.” 

   Shannon mouthed, ‘Special permission?’ and tried not to cry. Moved heaven and earth was more like it. They had abandoned all their principles, along with their few remaining blood relatives, to make a better life for Sophie.  

    “What’s out there…?” Sophie asked, pointing to the window and bringing the attention of both the adults back to the present moment. 

    “Nothing sweetheart,” Jamie lied smoothly. “Nothing at all.” 

    “But I heard scratching at my window!” The child insisted.   

    “You know if we don't tell her the whole truth, she will hear it from the older kids at her school,” Shannon pointed out. 

    Jamie shrugged in defeat. 

    Shannon swallowed hard, then asked: “Sophie, have you ever heard anyone speak of The Balance?”  

    “No.” 

    “Well, that's what the people in The Citadel call … them – but the farmland people call them Gods–” 

    “We called them monsters!” Jamie interjected.  

    In the flickering light, as Shannon bit back a curse, Sophie searched the faces of her parents, and waited. 

    “You. Are. Not. Helping.” Shannon hissed through clenched teeth in Jamie's general direction, before looking back to Sophie. “The Gods watch over this world. They demand ... gifts ... from the farming families ... in return for the abundance of blessings they give to us.”   

    “Are the Gods in The Citadel now?” Sophie spoke with a maturity well beyond her years. “Should I offer them one of my toys?” 

    “We don't know for sure. And that's the truth,” Shannon affirmed. “Normally the Gods avoid The Citadel completely because their eyes are so sensitive to the light. That's why it never really gets dark here. That’s why all the streetlights burn through the night, and all the buildings are always lit up so beautifully…”  

    “Sophie, Shannon and I had never seen electric lights until we moved to the Citadel,” Jamie explained. “There have been laws for as long as anyone can remember; the farmland has no electricity or gas. We were allowed wood fires and candles - but no bright lights. As soon as the sun set on the farms, it gets pitch-black outside like it is here, now.”   

    Shannon leaned forward and whispered urgently to Jamie, who nodded in reply; after all, as they say, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’.  

    Shannon took Sophie's hand and spoke softly. Reluctantly. “Because you were born in the farmland, like we were, you should be able to see in the dark, Sophie. It's what's called a genetic adaptation - for survival - but because you have lived in The Citadel since you were just a few months old, your eyes never developed that ability. We never … well, we never dreamed you would need it.”  

    Sophie looked up into the faces of her parents and saw their strength – and their desperation. “Can I have enough candles so I can read a book, please?” 

    “Of course you can, baby.” 

    Jamie and Shannon quickly scoured the apartment and gathered the candles from the bathroom and their bedroom, then returned to arrange them safely in Sophie’s bedroom.   

    Soon a cheerful light illuminated the colourful furnishings and soft toys, and Sophie propped herself up with pillows, holding a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and her favourite book on her knees. She turned the book towards Jamie, who smiled and nodded in approval. 

    As the adults returned to the kitchen, Shannon asked, “What's she reading?”  

    “It’s a story about a magical spider, of all things – but it’s been her favourite for years…” 

    Wordlessly, the two embraced.    

    Shannon eventually said, “We need to decide what we are going to do – assuming we make it through the night…” 

    “The only thing I’m sure about is that frightened, selfish people do stupid, cruel things when they're desperate,” Jamie whispered. “And since no-one in authority seems to know if the blackout is the result of terrorism or simply failure of the ancient equipment, I’m thinking that one more night without electricity and the good people of The Citadel will decide to start offering sacrifices at the steps of their apartment buildings. At the first light of day, we need to make a break for it, and get past The Wall. We can protect Sophie - and ourselves - better on the outside.” 

    “So, we’re agreed then? Good. I’ll take first watch and I’ll wake you in two hours.”  

    Jamie went into Sophie’s room and sat in the chair next to the window, hoping against logic, that sleep would come.  

    The moment the sunlight finally crept above the towering crest of The Wall and chased away the shadows of the Citadel, the trio quietly left the only home Sophie had ever known, with only what they could carry in their backpacks.   

    And together the little family – scarcely noticed by the few exhausted people who had ventured beyond the comparative safety of their apartments – headed bravely towards their unknown future.