Distraught, Sen ran back to her dozing companion, and climbed up on his back. “Akoto, go,” she said, urging him to take off as fast as he could. Anywhere but here.
But after only a few steps, Akoto grumbled and groaned, stretched out his back, and then leaned back and forth as if to shake her off.
“Akoto!” she yelled as she slid off and landed on her side, sand shooting in her mouth and eyes.
A cold nose sniffed at her neck, followed by a slobbery tongue that licked her cheek as she coughed and sneezed. Finally, after she cleared most of the red sand from her face, he retreated back to the bristlecone tree and curled up in its shade.
Fine, she thought, brushing off and running off toward a spire. Heights usually terrified her, but right then she needed to get away, even if it meant climbing up to the stars.
Sen grasped the first red-rock handhold and looked up. From her vantage point, the top of the spire scraped the cloudless sky.
Coward, she told herself, cursing her shaking limbs.
Gritting her teeth, she put one hand in front of the other, pulling herself up with her heart lodged in her throat. The eastern winds picked up, blowing her hair in her face and finding every hole in her shirt and pants, bringing goosebumps to her skin. But with every finger scraped inside the porous rock or knee racked against the unforgiving vertical surface, she spurred herself forward, too afraid of what would happen if she stopped.
Once on top she collapsed, not caring she lay only inches away from a treacherous fall. Hungry, exhausted, and overwhelmed with questions and feelings she couldn’t begin to translate, she lay on her side and stared out to the west. The glowing blue wall, once a beacon of her exclusion, appeared less vibrant than usual, as if the Guild soldiers hadn’t replenished its electrical defenses. Farther north, the same dark clouds and smoke swirled above the Gardens, but she turned her gaze back toward Hirak mountain, to the Guild fortress.
Ennari…
A Nezran word, the call of death, of consumption.
The Nezra’s sickness will spread. The thought of more fighting, spreading death and disease, made her heart ache. Even if the denoms regarded her as shadowless, that didn’t mean that they deserved to suffer, or for entire cultures and nations to be eradicated. What can I do? If the Nezra are sick, they won’t stop.
“Haebi… Mother…” she whispered. Succumbing to exhaustion, she brought her knees to her chest and rested her head on her arm. As she drifted off, Akoto’s howl rose from the desert sands, a mournful cry that called out to the deepest parts of her. With tears in her eyes, she added: “…Father.”
***
Sen woke to a darkened sky and a blanket wrapped around her body. Rubbing the crusts from her eyes, she couldn’t discern the figure sitting next to her until her vision adjusted to the evening light.
“Nya?”
The woman warrior sat next to the edge of the spire, gazing out to the east. Below them, great bonfires lit up the clan grounds, and Chakoa, young and old, celebrated the return of their lost member.
“Here, eat this,” Nya said, keeping her eyes trained to the activity below as she pushed a wooden bowl toward Sen.
Propping up on her elbow, she took one sniff of the steaming bowl of stew before guzzling it down.
“How did you get this up here?” Sen asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Given Nya’s bandaged arms, ribs, hands, and splinted ankle, she wasn’t even sure how Nya managed to haul herself up, let alone a bowl of soup and a blanket.
Sen expected a biting remark, or at least some form of sarcasm. Instead, Nya kept an even tone and picked at her shirt stained with globs of stew. “I like to improvise.”
Unsure if she could laugh, Sen hid her smile and set the bowl down. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Silence fell between them as they watched the dancing below. Finally, Sen conjured up the voice to ask: “Why aren’t you celebrating too?”
“Osan sent me to find you.”
Sen raised an eyebrow. Without looking at her, Nya picked up Sen’s skepticism.
“I know you’re upset,” she said, her voice softer this time.
Not knowing what to say, Sen held her breath, waiting for Nya to add something harsh.
“Our ways are difficult to understand, at least at first. But you’ll learn the difference between attachment and loyalty. One will get you killed. The other gives you family, a purpose. And to for us shadowless, it’s the only way we can survive.”
Is this real? For the first time since they had met, Nya spoke to her without anger lacing her words, or her hands in fists.
“What you did back there… in the Sanctum yard…” Nya’s voice faltered, and her brow pinched together. Even in the low light, the woman warrior’s gaze held the same intensity, vivid blue eyes connecting with Sen’s. “I can’t remember much, but I do remember seeing that light. Your light.”
Sen turned away, unable to hear her words. “I don’t know what happened.”
Grunting, Nya readjusted herself on the edge and looked back down below. “I don’t believe in nasci. I don’t believe in legends, and least of all hope.”
Sen didn’t know how to take her statement, especially by the waver in her voice.
“But you’re not the girl I thought I met in the Dethros. You and that beast—Akoto—you two are worth your skins.”
If anyone else had said it, she probably wouldn’t have taken it as a compliment, but coming from Nya, she beamed.
“No-no-no,” Nya said, blocking her attempts at a hug.
“Sorry” Sen said, pulling the blanket back up over her shoulders.
“Time to get back. You should come, too. Sho’s receiving a new row of tattoos.” Nya pointed down to where Sho sat bare-chested and cross-legged in front of the largest bonfire. Osan held up a ceremonial box and chanted a blessing over Sho’s head as the other clan members got down on their knees.
“Why?”
“We use tattoos to honor our clan members, tell their stories. Sho survived a nightmare. We can’t forget what he, or any of the others, sacrificed.”
“What about you, Sahib, and Kaden? Will you get new ones, too?”
Nya shook her head, her expression hardening. From her silence, Sen guessed that Osan still held her in contempt.
Before she could stop herself, Sen blurted out: “Will he punish you?”
Gaze narrowing, Nya looked out across the desert, past the star-speckled horizon. “You make your choices, Sen. I can live with pain, but not with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to rescue my family.”
Nya’s words sunk deep, sending an involuntary shiver through her body and awakening the memory her own physical punishments. Exit wounds on her hands and feet tingled, and she heard her father’s disappointed words. “Senzo, why are you always running?”
“Not again,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Sen said, peeling off the blanket.
“Come down,” Nya said, turning around and beginning her descent. She paused, her head still poking up above the lip. “It’s time to get you properly initiated.”
Sen smiled, but didn’t follow her down right away. Crawling over to the other side of the Spire, she looked for Akoto under the bristlecone tree. When she didn’t see him, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes.
Where are you?
As she thought of her friend, other feelings drummed up from her subconscious, procuring their voice from Nya’s words: “I can live with pain, but not with myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to rescue my family.”
Everything in my power…
A single word whispered up from her heart, conjuring memories of Akoto’s howl, and the transcendent light she saw on the battlefield.
Nasci…
All her life, she had wished herself different, a warrior like Nya, wise like Natsugra, or at least brave like Sho; someone who could speak their mind and not freeze up or run away. Some
one strong, and powerful; someone who could make a difference.
A light formed in front of her closed eyelids. When she opened her eyes, she saw the lucent orb beneath her shirt, shining like a star.
“When I was very quiet, when I listened to the deepest parts of myself, the bulbs would light up...”
Thumbing the Scylan necklace, more of her uncle’s counsel came to mind: “Embrace all that you are, believe in what you can become.”
Maybe it didn’t matter if she was or wasn’t nasci, if the radiant powers she experienced came from Akoto, or came from an unknown source. I still have something to offer, she thought, looking at the glowing bulb in her hands.
Two eyes, different colors, flashed before her as a shadowy giant landed next to her on top of the spire with little more than a whisper.
“Akoto!” she exclaimed, kissing his nose. The black-furred beast growled but allowed her to squeeze his neck.
Climbing on top of him, she gave one last look to the Chakoans below as they danced in the firelight and sang their war songs. Even Nya, distinct at a distance with her shaved head and braids, joined the celebration, imbibing with Kaden, Sahib, and a newly marked Sho. Once enough of them healed—maybe sooner—the clan would go to war, tearing down what they could inside the Realm while the Nezra lay waste to the denoms.
“I don’t know what I am,” she whispered into the night, turning her gaze back to the glowing blue wall of the Realm as she clung to Akoto. Nudging him with her heels, he took a few steps and jumped off the spire, opening his wings to catch the winds.
“Akoto!” she cried, terrified and enlivened as he glided through the air.
As he weaved in and out of the spires, she dared herself to let go. Holding on with just her legs, she spread her arms wide, allowing the cold rush of air to wash over her face and body, and fill her lungs. The great expanse of the unknown filled her, endless possibilities and whispers of a future she could not comprehend in her wildest dreams.
I may be shadowless, I may be nothing, she thought as she set her sights on the fires still raging in the Gardens. Firming her grips back on Akoto’s black fur, she made a promise to herself, and to whatever God might be listening: But I will do everything in my power to save those I love. I am not running away anymore.
***
The adventure continues in Shadowless – Volume Two: Battle at Hirak Mountain
Find out more at: www.triorion.com
Character Concepts
About the Author
Author L.J Hachmeister writes and fights—though she tries to avoid doing them at the same time. The WEKAF world champion stick-fighter is best known in the literary world for her epic science fiction/fantasy series, Triorion, and her equally epic love of sweets.
Though she has yet to decide whether to use her powers for good or evil, L.J. continues to teach the next generation of Filipino stick-fighters while writing in multiple genres, including science fiction/fantasy, young adult, LGBTQ+ fiction, and romance.
About the Artist
M.J. Erickson is a Colorado-based illustrator who enjoys spending time with her cat, playing video games and drawing women with undercuts. Her previous work includes Marvel sketch cards, children’s book illustrations, and concept work for author Tamora Pierce. She has a passion for fiction that highlights dynamic and relatable women and builds fun, complex new worlds. Shadowless does both in spades, and she’s proud to help bring its fierce and compassionate characters to life through her art.
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