by J G Smith
What? She isn’t answering any of my questions; she’s just filling my mind with more and more. I have no idea what’s happening and I’m not too enthused with the idea of waiting. I try asking about the patches in the sky and the hands I felt grabbing me and, still, she resists answering. But, I notice, these questions clearly spark a nerve. These shadows, whatever they are, evidently carry a story – a woeful story.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she assures. “I will tell you. It’ll just be easier to show you first.”
I shake my head and finish with the succulent purple fruit, marlabu as she calls it, moving my plate slightly forward. She takes it and puts it on top of hers.
“Follow me,” she says, plainly.
I listen. I get up and do as she says without a second’s thought. That’s curious, I think to myself. But I’m quickly distracted by the moving shadows.
“They’ve been around since the genesis of this universe,” she says, looking towards the ones in the sky. “They came here after the last great war.”
My eyes move from the shadows to her, interested to learn more.
She, taking note of my regard, keeps going, “They’re called shadows and, in most universes, they’re dormant. They’ve been that way since the fall of Skadewijem.”
She notices my puzzled expression and continues, as we make our way out of the grid-like ghost town. The patches in the sky seem more active and continue shifting and moving. “There were dragons in the beginning.” Her words come matter-of-factly, as if it’s common knowledge—as if everyone should know.
But all I’m thinking is, She’s joking, right?
“Time was the first,” she adds.
She isn’t, my thought continues.
I see endless desert sand before us as we make our way – with me following and listening. There are a few trees here and there (not any that I recognise from Lithon) and a path – much like the one I was on last night. Well, I think last night. She didn’t answer that question.
“She’s the goddess that allowed for the advent of this—our reality,” continues Nazriya, referring to Time, “and she gave birth to light and dark – Lithen and Skadewijem. Then came the elements – the greater and the lesser.”
I’m sure I’ve heard this before, I think to myself. Doesn’t Skye believe something similar? Minus the dragon part, that is… and the shadows – that’s the stuff of nightmares.
“I have a friend that believes light and darkness wrestled in the beginning,” I tell her, “and that light won. That is why light always chases the darkness.”
“The friend you’re looking for?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “I, at least, know this friend’s name… Skye.”
Nazriya’s eyes open, a little wider than normal. I notice that they’re dark brown in colour as I wonder, Does she know about Skye as well?
The town is a mirage in the distance by now. The trees I see are scarce, naked and dry, and the sun is scorching on the parts that aren’t hidden by the shadowy patches in the sky. There are patches on the ground as well. They, too, are moving. I keep at least one eye on them as we walk.
“She was talking about Lithen,” she says, referring to my comment on Skye’s belief in the light defeating the darkness. “There was a disagreement among the dragons that threatened their place in this—our reality. Lithen and Skadewijem, the great dragons of light and dark, led the confrontation from either end. Both were wounded, but in the end Skadewijem and his shadows were defeated.”
I don’t actually know where this conversation is going. I don’t see how her beliefs explain any of what’s going on here or how it can help us in any way. Also, I’m more concerned with the shadows around us – they’re growing larger and coming closer, a lot closer.
“Nobody really knows what happened with Lithen after that,” says Nazriya, not in the slightest bit fazed by the encroaching patches of darkness, “or with Skadewijem for that matter. But we know that the strongest of the shadows came here.” Her voice became reverent as she added, “Mum always said they were sent here by Time. She said that the great goddess saw that I was the only who’d be able to keep them under control once they recovered.”
With my eyes and attention on the shades, I find myself bumping into Nazriya as she utters those heavy-laden words. I don’t quite know if she believes the part about herself. Her eyes drift off and a forlorn look encapsulates her face. Is she remembering something?
My heart sinks, briefly. If she is remembering, she’s remembering something tragic. I look around; shadows, everywhere. Perhaps it’s something to do with them. Are they the reason no one else is here?
She looks at me after a moment and I gesture to apologise for the nudge. “Are we okay with these things following us?” I then ask, notably perturbed. My voice rises a little. “I mean, there’s your story and what happened last night—if it was last night. You still haven’t answered that question.”
Her expression doesn’t change. Is she not afraid of them?
“They are getting awfully close.” I add.
Still, she doesn’t seem bothered. She turns around, full rotation, waves her hand and continues to walk as she starts to sing.
Step back, I’m walkin’
Step back, I’m here
You’ve taken all you’ve taken
You’re not welcome here
The shadows slow down and those closest seem to either dissipate or flee. I’m dumbstruck.
“Every word I speak,” she says, “is obeyed. The shadows listen to me, especially when I sing.” She looks to the ground, slows down and comes to a halt. “Mum was right. It just took me a little longer to realise.” She forces a smile and adds, “But by then they were already gone.”
They are the reason, I conclude. But what do they have to do with this universe crossing thing? It’s just more questions. My heart goes out to Nazriya – to experience that and to keep going… I don’t know what to say.
Things go quiet for a moment.
I then see, over her shoulder, a small body of water (about the size of an average swimming pool) and a few lush trees. It’s an oasis. The trees have the fruit we ate a few moments earlier and the strikingly blue water seems to emit a light – faint, but noticeable.
“That’s what I wanted to show you,” she says, moving on from our last exchange. She approaches the water and looks down at it. I follow and look down too. And, in place of my reflection, I see Rex.
Nazriya then asks, “Do you see her?”
Confusion floods my mind. I look into the well and then back at her. Nothing. Her reflection is the same – hers. It’s mine that’s different. Does she not see him? “Who?” I ask.
Her eyes remain fixed on her reflection. “Mum and the others couldn’t see her either,” she says. “I think she’s from another universe.”
“Nazriya,” I approach delicately, “I appreciate what you’re telling me, but you keep talking about other universes and shadows and dragons… I still have no idea what’s going on. What is it you wanted to show me?”
She points to the centre of the oasis, where the light effulges brightest. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at. My eyes feel funny. The image, still and clear, seems warped and distorted. Wait… There’s someone inside—two people—two boys. It can’t be. It’s me and Bradley in our secret hideout as kids. I’m at a loss for words.
“It’s called a time vortex,” she says. “It shows us things that have happened, things that will happen and, sometimes, things that are happening. Like now—” She brushes the water with her hand, causing it to ripple. A new image then takes the stage. It’s Bradley and Skye walking side by side in the Phantom Forest – the actual forest – just as Lightaia begins to set.
“I was here when it happened, when the shadows recovered and took my family and friends.” This is what she was thinking back on earlier. “If only I was more prepared,” her voice goes low and a few tears drop from her face into the oasis.
“Some things we don’t have control over,” I tell her, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“Do you have a family?” she asks, looking up at me.
I freeze. Where did that question come from? “Yes,” I tell her. My voice also goes low as I continue, “I just don’t know if the man who raised me is my father. And, sometimes, I wonder if my mother really is… my mother.”
“My parents said that I was never really born, but I still count them as my parents. They raised me and treated me as if I was their own.”
She’s right. My heart sinks a little and my mind turns to Stephen and Jennifer – my parents. I’d only ever shared my doubts with Bradley. I remember finding some obscure and lengthy document titled The Peters Project in their room when I was younger. Bradley convinced me not to read it, but remained understanding of my suspicions.
I look back at the vortex, with him and Skye walking. They’re by the river now.
Nazriya straightens her clothes out and continues with her story – about when the shadows had taken her family and friends. “The vortex was showing the image of you walking through the portal. I’ve seen it so many times since then and knew that day would come. You are the Ghost Master’s Alversia.”
A number of hissing voices cry out and echo from the shadows in the distance, “No!”
“And you need to find her,” continues Nazriya, “the Arcane Messenger.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask. Clearly the vortex has shown her a lot. “Do you know who she is?”
“She’s the one who’ll save us. The one who’ll save us all.”
But Skye said she’s going to kill me. I don’t understand. Give me more, I think. I’m practically begging with the look on my face.
The shadows continue crying out and muttering things like, “Don’t listen!” and “It isn’t true!”
“There are many worlds around us, Robert,” says Nazriya, not heeding the shadows’ voices, “and some of us have an Alversia – a version of ourselves in another universe.” She looks back at her reflection and adds, “You and I are Alversia.”
She must be seeing Claire, I think.
“But what does this have to do with the Arcane Messenger?” I ask.
“Now you are asking the right questions,” she says.
I’m confused.
She walks over to one of the trees and picks a red fruit, halabar, before she continues, “She’ll see the future, and she’ll have a message to deliver.”
I take a breath and stand as still as I can. This is frustrating. “I know that,” I tell her, “but I still have no idea what it means. Why is her seeing the future so important?”
“Look around you, Robert,” says Nazriya. “These aren’t the only shadows in our reality – they’re just remnants of those that were strongest. Sooner or later the others will wake up too… and that is the least of our concerns. Surely you’ve seen it.”
“Seen what? The shadows? Before yesterday, if it was even yesterday, I didn’t even know they existed.”
There’s another pause, another awkward silence.
“I need you to ask the right questions,” she says. I can see she’s worried about something and that she’s getting more and more anxious about it. “Look.” She’s pointing at the vortex with Bradley and Skye. “The oracle and the eidolon are coming. They’re coming for you. And there are others.”
Them? The shadows grow louder and closer. Nazriya sings a line of her song and they hush and flee. But this time, not so far away.
“Lighkame?”
“Who else?” she asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Two people,” she says. “Think.”
I shake my head. I have no idea what’s going on.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been here, Robert.” She sighs heavily. “You’ve also been here as someone else, and he knows who the Arcane Messenger is.”
“What?”
“And you’ve heard his name before.”
“Do you know?” I ask her. “Because you seem to. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” she says. “You need to be able to figure it out on your own. That’s what I’ve been trying to help you with over the last couple of days.”
“What?” Days?! That explains the déjà vu and the clothes I found in the chest of drawers.
“I found out after your first night here,” she says. “You don’t remember anything after your encounter with the shadows. It must be the time vortex. You’re not used to its effects.”
“Wait, how many days have I been here?”
“Again, with the wrong questions,” she says. “But it’s okay, you’re learning.”
“Learning what, exactly?”
“How to figure things out,” she answers. “Today you asked, mostly, the right questions. If you ask the right questions, you’re more likely to find the right answers. I mean, it took a whole day to explain to you what the shadows were the first day you were here. Now look.”
“So, it’s about the right questions?” I ask. She nods. “Then why bring me to the vortex?” That’s my first question.
“Trust,” she replies. “Nothing else seemed to work. But that’s not the right question. Come on, Robert, remember.” Those words come with a bit more force.
A few images flash before my mind. I see myself and the girl at a different part of the oasis. I see myself and her talking in the ghost town. There are smiles and laughter and a bit of training, it seems. I see myself close my eyes and jump from one place to the next with a burst of electricity. Teleportation?
“Why do I remember my first night here?” I ask her.
She pauses, this time with a look of intrigue on her face. She hadn’t really considered that question before. “I don’t know,” she answers.
“Is it only the shadows that listen when you speak or is it everything?”
“When I sing,” she starts, but shrugs it off. “What triggered that question?” she asks.
“I just remembered a few moments from the days that passed, after you told me to remember.”
This is news to her. There’s a pleasant look of shock on her face. “Everything?” she asks.
“Not everything,” I say, “but quite a bit. So, you can tell me, and then instruct me to remember.”
The shadows grow louder, again. I look around me and find that they’re coming even closer. They don’t like what we’re talking about. I look back at Nazriya and her pleasant look has faded.
“I don’t know who the Arcane Messenger is,” she says, “but I know she’s been following you, along with someone else.”
“The person I came here as?”
She nods.
“Ja—” I start, but she cuts me off. The shadows get even louder and even closer.
“Don’t say his name,” she tells me. “Not here.”
I’m confused by this, but cast it off as an irrelevant question. Nazriya starts singing, again, but seems to have less of an effect than before.
“You have to go,” she tells me, realising what’s happening.
“What about you?”
“I need to hold them off for as long as possible,” she says.
“Then hold them off from the other side!” I didn’t think that one through, but it’s the best I have right now.
“It doesn’t work like that,” she says. “My powers won’t have any effect on them here if I cross over there – and there’s more than one portal in this universe crossing over to others. You have to go. Maybe I can instruct the portal to close on this side.”
“Maybe you can instruct the portal to close on the other side.” I feel my temperature rising. I’m panicking a little—no, more than a little.
She looks at me and I know. I already know. “And risk a shadow crossing over to your universe? Leave them to cross over to others?”
I don’t like this. Not one bit.
“You need to find the Arcane Messenger,” she tells me. “She’ll have a message t
o deliver. Every single universe needs to hear that message.”
The shadows draw closer. Nazriya sings another line of her song and holds them at bay, just barely.
“Just do me one thing before you go,” she pleads.
“Anything,” I say.
“Close your eyes.”
What?
She repeats. “Close your eyes.”
It doesn’t matter, Robert, I tell myself. Just close your eyes. It’s the least you can do.
“You are the Ghost Master’s Alversia, so you can do what he can do, sort of.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We tried it the other day,” she tells me. “With your power, you can see things with your eyes closed. With the Ghost Master’s power, you can see and hear my parents… my family.” I can hear the tears behind her voice.
I don’t understand, but I do it anyway. With my eyes closed, I focus… I see her, Nazriya. I see the oasis. I see the path on the other end of, leading to the portal.
“Do you see them?” she asks.
And, beyond belief, I do. I see people all around us – men, women and children. Their appearance, though, is a lot brighter and a lot more translucent than Nazriya’s. Side to side, next to Nazriya, is a man and a woman watching over her. That must be her parents, I think to myself. Her mother has her hand on Nazriya’s back.
“I do,” I tell her, describing the scene before me.
She smiles as a few tears run down her cheeks.
“Nazriya Fellondale,” her mother says, looking at her with the eyes of a well pleased parent. She, and Nazriya’s father, then look towards me and tell me, “We are proud – of everything she’s done.” They ask me to let her know and that I should urge her to sing. “Like never before,” they say, adding, “We will be singing with her.” The host of people… ghosts… seem to concur with their motion, indicating that they’ll do the same.
Barely able to believe what’s happening, I relay the message. I feel the tears build up in me as well, but I squeeze my eyes even tighter and hold them back.
