CHAPTER 9 RAYA
RAYA
When you spend your every waking hour in the Gray, you forget how beautiful the world looks in color.
The shadows don’t just dull the rainbow of its vibrance, they charge the air, change the texture of breathing.
And while the absence of pure magic can blunt the edge of our gifts, there’s a crispness to the physical realm that makes the two planes of existence hard to compare.
The Gray is comfort, and power, and safety, whereas leaving the shadows feels like jumping into a kaleidoscope of vivid flowers, swimming in a lake of mottled ink.
The portal deposits us at the Academy interchange, an imposing junction house that’s lavishly gilded and adorned. Where the typics have to mine their splendor, Yellow Shades can charm it into being, turn flint to marble and mica to gold, chalk to onyx and shingles to precious stones.
If only they could charm away the iron. The moment Akari and I leave the grounds, I begin to taste the metal in the air.
A faint annoyance at first, like an irritating tickle, but the weight of it slowly builds in sharpness as we snake our way through the streets, growing increasingly suffocating in its might.
The Council’s bane, we call it.
The one natural element that can sap our magic of strength.
In small quantities, the effects are more irksome than they are dangerous, but when it’s laced into every roof tile, flagstone, and wall, it can kill a Shade dead.
Spend too long around too much of it, and we don’t just lose our ability to cast, we lose our ability to phase.
Which is a problem since phasing into the Gray is the only way to replenish our magic once it’s been stripped.
“Gods, the Church is getting brazen,” Akari says as the swell of nausea reaches her, as well, the sick, unsettling feeling that starts in the blood and churns our stomachs raw. “They must really be encroaching on Council territory for it to hit this hard so quickly.”
Much quicker than it used to, I can’t help but think as we carve a path towards the color district, the sole place in Sarotuza where we can still go to escape the hate.
In other cities, the divide between Council and Church runs far neater, a west versus east divide, for instance, or fully segregated rings.
But Sarotuza is a stubborn mistress and the faithless here have been fighting the spread of religious reform tooth and nail.
They won’t give up their homes—or their access to magic—just because the clergy say so.
They like the convenience a Shade can offer them, the way that spells, charms, and talismans do a better job at accomplishing a task both fast and well.
Because why would they pore over tedious texts when that knowledge can be easily imparted by a Violet?
Or spend months tending to their orchards when a Blue can accelerate them to fruition in days?
A Green can cure their cancer instead of treat it, a Red can enhance their appearance with a glamour, and with a sprinkle of Orange, their houses will withstand a storm instead of flooding come the summer rains.
They have no intention of forsaking those luxuries for the Gods, nor do they intend to let the Church drive all the charm houses into a single borough.
The result is a city that’s constantly threatening to erupt with violence. A hazard for both typic and Shade.
“So now that we’re safely out of the castle, are we going to talk about what happened back there?” Akari asks in way of distraction, fixing me a pointed look.
“You mean with Killen?” I know damn well she means with Killen. And Akari knows I know it, too.
“Yes, Raya, I mean with Killen.” She jabs an elbow to my side. “That boy has been a ghost for six months and now he’s suddenly waiting for you outside the portal hall? That doesn’t feel random.”
That’s because it wasn’t.
“So . . . I may have . . . run into him this morning at the archives,” I hedge, not yet sure how much of this story I’m ready to recount. “And we may have gotten into a fight.”
“About . . .”
“The real reason we broke up.”
“Oh, Ray, you didn’t.” Her face fills with a mix of disappointment and understanding, like she’s both mad at me for doing it, but worried about me at the same time.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say, sheepish. “But he was pressing my buttons and it just sort of slipped out.”
“So that’s why you looked so upset in the court chamber,” she mutters, filling in the rest of the blanks. “I’m guessing he took it badly?”
“Can you really blame him?”
“No, I suppose I can’t. But maybe it’s for the best.” Akari rallies, turning her wince into a shrug. “Maybe now he’ll finally stop hoping you’ll forget about that vision, and move on.”
“Maybe.” I’m grateful that she leaves it at that. “Are you finally ready to move on?” I nudge the limelight in her direction, prodding at the Saleen-shaped wound she ripped open on my behalf.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Akari tenses, the admission escaping her in a nervous rush.
“I thought I was, but then, last night, she was right there, and we were talking a little before you came in, and it almost felt like we were . . . us again. Like maybe this whole ‘happy and over it’ thing she’s been doing is just an act.
But then I went to try and talk to her after the trial and she was as cold as if last night never happened.
She wouldn’t even let me in the door, Ray, told me to go away because she was tired.
So now, I don’t know what to think anymore, except that there’s something going on with her—has been for months. I just can’t figure out what.”
This time, the nausea in my gut tastes more like a guilty conscience than the iron lining the streets.
I’ve known for a while how unhappy Akari has been since the break-up, especially as—unlike Killen—she never got a reason for why Saleen was calling it quits.
Not even a fake one. They were simply together until, one day, Saleen decided they weren’t.
By way of a note, no less, a cowardly I’m sorry but I can’t do this.
And now I’ve not only gone and forced her right back into those helpless feelings, I went and asked that open question, as well, inflicted this hurt for nothing.
“Akari, I—” Have to come clean. Right now. “There’s—”
“Hey, check this out.” But Akari’s attention has already drifted towards less painful ground, her brow furrowing as she considers the wealth of flyers that have been tacked, haphazardly, to the streetlamps.
“These are new.” She studies the worn scraps of paper.
There are dozens of them, each scrawled with a name, an age, a date, and the word missing in increasingly large text.
“They’re all children.” The churn in my stomach turns to dread. “Seems an awful lot, don’t you think? To have disappeared so close together?” Over the past few months, it looks like, though the flyers seem to have multiplied significantly in the past few weeks.
“Yeah,” Akari says with a shudder. “It really is.”
“Is it strange that we haven’t heard about a problem this widespread?”
“It’s strange that we haven’t been blamed for it.
” Her voice hardens. Because—yes, that’s exactly the type of lie the Church would tell, and if not them, then the Meridians.
Ever since their “divine” leader rose to power, the pitch of the hate in Sarotuza has changed.
The lies used to be simple: magic is a sin, we are a plague, the Gray is unnatural .
. . the same tired rhetoric that’s been regurgitated for hundreds of years.
Whereas now, we have a false prophet telling a very different story and placing a price on our heads.
Which the Church was fine with, at first, back when the Divine Meridian was little more than a disgruntled cleric.
But the second he started threatening their power, the clergy took a firmer stance—and they’re not above denigrating us as a means to unseat him.
The Meridian takes Shades so, in return, we take children? That’s an accusation that would incite some pious rage. It’s only a matter of time before the Church adopts it.
“Come on, let’s just shimmer to the house.” Akari takes my arm and blinks us into the Gray. “The sooner we get your parents out of the way, the sooner we can start tracking.”
“Why don’t you start now?” The shadows immediately relieve the burn of the iron, lending me the strength to say, “I can go on my own.”
“Are you sure?” She has the grace not to look too excited. “Because I’ll come if you need me, I know your parents can be a little—”
Dismissive? Judgemental? Cruel? Cold enough to make me question whether it’s a daughter they wanted, or a continuation of the Wryvern name?
“I’ll be fine, honest.” Sometimes, it’s actually easier to weather the chill alone.
“Well, in that case, maybe I’ll sneak in a spot of trading before we track.” Akari flashes me her teeth. “Come find me when you’re done?”
“Yeah. But be careful, okay?” I add, not just because there’s still a Shade-hunting zealot on the loose, but because, strictly speaking, she’s not allowed to do that out here.
At the Academy, our professors turn a blind eye to our extracurricular trading since spelling charms is a great way for us to hone our skills.
But in the real world, the trade in magics is closely monitored, and the Council doesn’t much like it when a Shade conspires to rob them of their cut.
“Don’t worry, I promise to pick a nice, crowded, faithless dive.” Akari winks. Then before I can remember that I broke my magic, she shimmers off in search of some willing typics to pitch.