Chapter Twenty
Mr Herringford sits patiently at the front of his classroom waiting for the chatter amongst students to diminish.
Only half of the desks are filled. I guess some people are yet to get their Gifts.
I scurry in and pick a desk. The one furthest away from Alex is the one that is calling me.
I pull out the wooden chair on the far right side of the room and sit quickly, tucking myself into the desk.
Even though Alex is at the other end of the classroom, I can still feel his eyes burning into my head.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I spontaneously combusted in a minute or two.
Mr Herringford clears his throat, and his black sunglasses wobble on the bridge of his nose.
He pulls a pen out of the pocket of the tight brown trousers hugging his tall, thin legs.
He positions himself next to the whiteboard behind him and begins to write.
He stops for a minute and adjusts the collar of his shirt.
He is dressed rather smartly; however, his shirt is riddled with creases and is only half tucked into his trousers.
The beige and white V-neck fleece does a good job of hiding the creases, but I can still see the tiny ridges on his sleeves and the edges that hang untucked below his belt.
He continues writing, this time speaking the words out loud.
I reach for the pen and paper placed in front of me. I suppose this is for taking notes.
“For those of you who are new to my class, I am Mr Herringford.” He writes his name and underlines it.
“First of all, congratulations on getting your Gifts. I’m sure you are all pleased to have finally reached such a milestone.
” He scans around the room and runs a hand through his coarse brown hair.
He has the type of hair that will not hold any shape; it flops back down to rest flat on his forehead as soon as he moves his hand away.
“As you have all got your Gifts at different times, I can assume you will all be at various levels of control.”
He opens his left hand to reveal a bright white orb dancing on his palm. “Some of you will naturally be more advanced at yielding the light than others.”
He shoots his hands up and spreads them out wide.
The orb follows his motion and shoots up to the ceiling before spreading out into lots of smaller orbs hovering inches away from the ceiling.
I gawk in amazement as the spheres of light twinkle and glimmer.
He slowly closes his palm, and the spores of light diminish at once.
“To start, I want to see how well each of you can yield. Try to focus. Create a ball of white light in your palm just as I did.”
I look at Alex, who is already juggling three balls of light in the air like a total dick.
Why am I not surprised. It’s just like Alex to show off.
I can’t help being slightly impressed at how quickly he has gained control, though.
I stare at my left hand and try to conjure an orb.
I feel a rush of heat in my hand and watch as a light emits from my palm just as Mr Herringford’s did, but it goes out almost as quickly as it appeared.
I feel the muscles in my hand tense as I try again.
Sparks prick from the tips of my fingers, and the ball of light appears again.
I try to hold it as long as I can, but it begins to blink and slowly flickers out.
This is harder than I thought. I try again, and I feel a drop of sweat trickle down my brow. I pat my forehead dry with my sleeve. I’m burning up.
“I can see some of you are better than others, but that is to be expected.” He locks eyes with me like he can see the heat radiating off my body.
“Asha… your body temperature will continue to rise if you channel from within. This power does not come from within you; it comes from above you. The sun itself.” He walks closer towards me and tilts his head as if he is examining my understanding.
“Light is everywhere. Try to draw the power from around you rather than from inside you.” He stares harder at my red face.
“And stop trying so hard. You shouldn’t have to force the power out; it’s already there. You just have to access it.”
I nod my head in assurance and feel my muscles relax.
I take a deep breath and look around me.
He’s right; there is light all around me.
In every inch of this place. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate most of the walls in this room, and only an inch of brick lies between each large panel.
There are two large skylight windows above us in the ceiling, and I can see the sun hanging high in the window above me.
The light is soaring through in every direction; I just need to channel it.
I focus on the warmth of the sun against my skin and close my eyes.
“It’s all around me, not in me,” I say to myself in a whisper.
I let out a breath and try again… This time I don’t tense my muscles or hold my breath.
“Just ease into it,” I tell myself. I feel my palm tingle and it begins to spark again.
I look up at the sun and bask in its glory, then watch as the orb begins to grow in my hand.
And I don’t feel strain or pressure or so hot that my head is going to explode.
“Well done, Asha… Much better,” Mr Herringford nods at me, and I can’t help but smile at my achievement. I know it’s not juggling like Alex, but it’s an orb, and it’s my orb.
‘You are learning the ways of the Sun like a natural.’ Oriah’s voice breaks through my concentration, causing my orb to burn out. I let out a controlled breath to regain my composure.
‘It’s going to take a while to get used to this,’ I reply with a little sarcasm in my thoughts. I need to come to terms with the fact that my thoughts are no longer my own and Oriah can spring a conversation on me whenever she feels like it.
I look at the students around me, each tucked into their own wooden desks.
Spheres of light beam proudly in the palms of their hands, some brighter than others.
I watch as their lights pulsate and flicker.
Some of the newcomers struggle to hold their lights just as I did.
I watch as they grow smaller and eventually hiss out.
Trina is also in my class. She must’ve got her Gifts recently because she is one of the few who cannot hold their light longer than ten seconds.
She does not hide her frustration and huffs and puffs every few minutes.
I watch as she tugs at her long brown hair in annoyance.
Every time her light burns out, she scrunches her knuckles into a fist and bangs her table in anger.
I wonder if her God speaks to her like Oriah does to me.
‘I am the only God that can communicate telepathically with my people. The Starkind have natural dream walking abilities and can access their subconscious mind in ways others cannot. This openness acts as a channel, allowing me to communicate directly through it.’ Oriah’s voice echoes through me again, this time with a hint of pride.
I can tell she regards herself and her abilities to a high standard.
‘Of course you are,’ I reply, letting out a small exhale.
I still haven’t peeled my eyes away from the ball of stress that is Trina.
I swear, if her light flickers out one more time, she is going to snap the table in half.
I tense at the thought of this and watch as her orb ebbs and flows in her hand.
I mentally count in my head to ten, expecting it to go out around the nine mark.
I hold my breath when I get past nine and move to ten.
It’s still going. The table and I stare back in relief; she’s finally done it.
She’s created her orb and held it there.
I can see a smile form on her face as she revels in her glory.
Her freckled skin radiates with the joy of her triumph, and I watch as her rosy cheeks blush with a healthy glow.
Her happiness is contagious, and I can’t help but smile too.
I focus back on conjuring my own orb and watch as it shines bright.
I feel the sun’s warm rays channel through me, and my fingertips tingle with potential.
I concentrate on making it grow bigger, and to my surprise, it begins expanding.
I then think about it shrinking and watch as it grows smaller in synchrony with my demands.
This really is incredible. I find myself staring at my light, getting lost in all its intricacies.
The glow is gently expanding and shrinking and has me in a sort of trance. I am mesmerised.
I feel a hand grip my shoulder and lightly shake me. “Asha… best you don’t look at the light for too long,” Mr Herringford says, looking at me with concern.
I blink harshly and shake myself out of the trance.
“Do you know why I wear these, Asha?” he asks me, pointing to the black sunglasses resting on his nose.
“Ummmm…to protect your eyes from the light?” I guess, looking at the dark lenses covering his eyes. They are so dark I cannot see through them and have to guess that he is making eye contact back at me.
He smiles and reaches his fingers up to pinch the arm of his glasses.
He tilts them up away from his nose and pulls them back over his hairline, where he leaves them resting on the top of his head.
Oh Gods. His skin is shiny and dry in red and pink patches around his right eye.
The skin appears to be stretched tightly and scarred above his cheekbone and under his eyebrow, like it has been burned before.
His right eye socket is empty; the deep pocket that usually cradles an eyeball is just a gaping hole.
I cringe at the sight but refrain from making any remarks.