James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

“ What ?” Asha found herself speaking before anyone else in the room had a chance to react. She took a furious half-step towards Ilseth before being bodily restrained by Kasperan. She’d made him do it? It was a lie. It had to be.

Nashrel looked between Asha and Ilseth, expression darkening. “Why in El’s name would she ask for this, Ilseth?”

Ilseth sighed, turning to speak directly to Asha. His tone was gentle, full of regret. “The school at Caladel was attacked, Ashalia. Everyone died – everyone but you.” He paused to let that sink in. “That morning, you woke and saw exactly what we saw: bodies everywhere, murdered in some of the most gruesome ways imaginable. Except unlike us, you didn’t see strangers. They were your friends, your teachers… people you had grown up with. By the time you found us, you were almost incoherent with grief and fear.”

Still firmly in Kasperan’s grasp, Asha could feel the other Elder nodding his agreement. She stared at Ilseth, heart pounding, sick to her stomach. It couldn’t be true.

Ilseth continued, “You told me that before running into us, you had gone to your friend’s room, to see if he was alive. A boy who lived in the North Tower.”

Asha’s blood went cold. The Elders had been avoiding telling her what had happened, and this was why. Before Ilseth spoke again, she knew what he was going to say.

“He had died, Ashalia,” said Ilseth softly. “He had died just like the others, and you couldn’t take the memory of seeing it. You… went wild, when I refused to help. You attacked me.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a half-healed burn.

“I felt the blast,” confirmed Kasperan.

“I begged you to wait, but you insisted,” continued Ilseth. "You said you’d just keep attacking me until I did it… and that if I left it too late, if you were stuck with the memories, you’d… well, that you’d kill yourself instead. Without any Shackles available, I didn’t know what else to do.” He was visibly upset at the remembrance. "After that, we thought it best not to tell you until we were here. With only the three of us to watch you, we just… well, we didn’t know how you might react."

Asha felt tears forming in her eyes. Her knees buckled, and only Kasperan’s grip kept her from collapsing to the floor. A part of her still wanted to protest, to say that she would never have asked to be a Shadow, would never have done the things Ilseth was saying.

Yet Davian was dead. Her friends were dead . She couldn’t imagine that, either.

There was an awkward silence for some time, everyone watching Asha as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Finally Nashrel cleared his throat.

“A difficult situation to be in, Ilseth,” he said quietly. “And your actions under those circumstances are… understandable, I suppose. Still, the girl was not of age and had not failed her Trials; this is not something we can overlook entirely. We shall discuss the appropriate punishment later.”

Ilseth nodded, looking chastised. “I understand.”

Nashrel steepled his fingers together. “The question remains, though: how did Ashalia here survive? You’ve seen all three attack sites, Ilseth. There were no others left alive. Have you any idea as to what made Caladel different?”

Ilseth shook his head. “All I know is that it seems unlikely to be a mistake. Whoever, or whatever, has been carrying out these attacks has been thorough. There must be a reason.” He bit his lip. “I would recommend Ashalia stay at the Tol, for now. Not just because we need to understand why she survived. I feel… I feel like I owe her that much.”

Asha just stared at him, understanding the words but unable to process them. All she could think about was Davian. What it must have been like to find him like that.

“Agreed,” said Nashrel, glancing across at Asha sympathetically. “Ashalia, I’ll have someone show you to your new rooms; one of the Elders will be along later to help you settle in. Ilseth, if you could stay a little longer. There is more we need to discuss.”

“Of course.” Ilseth inclined his head deferentially. A few moments later a man Asha didn’t recognise was taking her by the arm and leading her from the room.

She didn’t resist, didn’t say anything.

All she felt was numb.

Asha’s room was far from luxurious, but it was certainly not the cramped stone cell that she had expected.

The walls were carved from the same bleak stone as the hallway outside, but the floor was mostly covered by two large, plain brown rugs. The bed in the corner was small but looked comfortable enough. A desk and chair sat neatly against the far wall; a single Essence-infused bulb hung from the wall, providing a low but steady light. A smaller room to the side contained a basin and other amenities. In all – with the exception of the lack of windows– it could have passed for an Elder’s quarters in Caladel.

“Elder Eilinar has requested that you stay here until you are asked for,” the Gifted who had accompanied her said politely.

Asha just stared at him, not responding. She knew she was being rude, that none of it was this man’s fault, but she didn’t care any more. After a few moments of awkward silence, the Gifted ducked his head and left, closing the door behind him.

The slight mechanical click of a lock followed seconds later. So she was a prisoner, then. She’d had that impression, but no-one had said anything specifically, and she was still too dazed - too heartbroken - to ask.

A mirror hung on the wall, and she grimaced as she caught a glimpse of herself in it. Jagged black lines spread out like a spiderweb from her eyes, which themselves were sunken, as if she had spent many days without sleep. Her skin, never conducive to tanning at the best of times, was a sickly, pallid hue, as if the colour – the life – had been leeched out of it.

She looked away. No point dwelling on what could not be changed. Even being a Shadow seemed meaningless now.

She moved over to inspect the desk, surprised to find it well-stocked with paper and writing equipment. The pencils here were not made for it, but she would be able to pass the time sketching if she so chose, something she’d often enjoyed back at the school. For some reason, the thought reassured her. At the very least, she would not lose her mind to boredom in here.

There was a Decay Clock, too, the Essence within it indicating late afternoon. She couldn’t replenish it once it was depleted, of course; she’d need one of the Gifted to do that for her. But if it was anything like Elder Olin’s Decay Clock back at the school….

Suddenly she couldn’t finish the thought, the wall in her mind that had been holding her emotions in check finally crumbling. Elder Olin was dead. They were dead . Gone, all of them. She would never see them again.

She collapsed on the bed and wept into the pillow. She screamed in pain, in anger, until her throat hurt. Still, the ache in her chest was too great, had nowhere to go.

Sometime after, exhausted, she slept.

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before a soft knock came at the door. She sat up warily, fully awake, hurriedly wiping her tear-streaked face as the door opened a second later.

She scowled as Ilseth Tenvar walked in.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

The Elder held up his hands. “I have come to apologise.”

Asha blinked. There was silence for a few moments, then she gestured tiredly, her fury draining away to be replaced by a despondent numbness. “Come in.”

Ilseth walked in, looking awkward. He stood in the middle of the room for a few moments, staring at the ground, then cleared his throat.