Whisper from the Shadows

That night Thea had much to contemplate, but as her eyes closed and her mind drifted into that purgatory between awake and slumber, she felt the shadows around her creep into the air and grasp at her back. That familiar darkness would soon arrive, as it had every night for countless moons. It was especially cold tonight and as she expected herself to be dragged into the soundless black, a strangely familiar voice reached out, “Thea, it’s time.”

Waking, her eyes darted around her room, and although she could sense no presence, she spoke anyway.

“Are you there?”

Half expecting silence to be her answer, the voice replied, “I am.”

From the darkest corner of her room emerged a man who looked more like a shadow himself—long and thin with deep black hair and pale skin, as if he had never seen the sun. But his steps jangled, which eased her subconscious apprehension. He walked into the moonlight almost melodically, and they stared at each other until she was satisfied that she didn’t recognize him, even though she felt she should.

“Do I know you?”

He turned his head as if ashamed. “Once, before…” his words trailed off, “I don’t expect you to understand, or even believe me, but only you can save this world.”

He was right; she didn’t understand. However, despite not recognizing him, she believed him. The room seemed to grow darker as he stood quietly before her. Noticing the shift, Thea looked at the moon, which appeared even dimmer than normal, then brought her attention back to him.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you. What’s your name?”

Slightly disappointed, he extended his hand to her, “Ciar.”

She stepped out of bed and took his hand, shaking it twice, despite it being ice-cold. “You seem to know me, but I’m,”

“Thea,” he finished before she could, “Yes, I know who you are. We grew up together.”

Her eyes widened as something familiar teased the periphery of her mind. Unlike Millicent, Thea felt this man was the key to glimpsing into the past that eluded her, but before she could ask questions about those forgotten times, he tightened his grip on her and waved his other hand across the doorway while speaking a strange language. The door disappeared—replaced by a strange purple glow.

“It’s time to go, Thea.”

She stared at their clasped hands, wondering what the difference between this man and the woman earlier could be—Thea was comforted by his touch. With little ceremony, Ciar ushered her to the door, took her in his arms, and walked through. She should have been frightened, but instead, her mind filled with wonder and curiosity. The other side of the threshold was another place altogether—halls of a grand, abandoned building. Judging by the architecture and size, in its prime, it would have been stunning.

But after the awe dwindled, a sudden panic struck her—this place was wrong. Everywhere she looked, the shadows crept, layers of darkness piling onto one another, creating an abyss that swallowed the modest amount of light in the room—even the air was thick with a veil of gloom. Before she could react, Ciar took her face into his hands and pulled her close.

“Listen to my words,” he whispered, “There is nothing to fear here.”

Her eyes widened. How did he know? She placed her hands over his and steadied her breathing, but her gaze traveled wildly around the room, checking to see if the shadows would encroach into their small, dimly lit space. Understanding her apprehension, Ciar stomped his foot lightly onto the ground, and Thea watched, in awe, how the sound emanating from his bells made the room feel a little brighter. That slight gesture seemed to hold the shadows, which appeared to have life, at bay.

Grasping onto his hand and pulling them away from her face, she couldn’t help but inquire.

“How did you do that?”

Ciar smiled, but although he meant it to be comforting, there was a hint of sadness behind it.

“The bells remind the dark of light.”

It was a cryptic response, but somehow she understood he would say no more. She sighed—not in annoyance but out of playful exasperation. Her lip curled, and she shrugged it off, as if it were a familiar behavior she was used to dealing with. His small reassurance had done what she could not do all those years: help dispel her impending fears—for now.

“Where are we?”

“Our old academy, this is where we grew up.”

She eagerly studied everything around her in hopes it would trigger a memory, but when nothing came, she sadly sighed.

“Were we friends in school?”

A melancholic countenance formed on his face.

“We were very close.”

She smiled in response, “I’m glad you found me.”

His head cocked, “I never lost you; I have always known where you were.”

Thea’s brow furrowed, distressed by his words, “Then... why did you not come sooner?”

Ciar took both her hands in his, facing her palms upwards while looking at them. “I should not have come even now; you are not ready, but time is running out and the darkness will no longer hold.”

His words resonated deep within her, down to her core. ‘The darkness’.

“We are magical, both you and I and everyone who lived in this realm. You do not remember, but your magic is infinite and pure. The world needs that magic in order to survive. It can only be you.”

Apprehensive, Thea searched his eyes, although shrouded in darkness there was a strange shimmer, like the moonlight reflecting off thousands of tiny waves. She trusted his words implicitly.

“How do I find my magic?”

“By using it.” He pointed to some candles in the distance, “Try lighting those wicks.”

“How?”

He extended his hand toward a candle. “Fire,” he softly commanded, and a purple flame manifested before he blew deeply, smothering it as quickly as it had appeared. Mimicking his motions, Thea lifted her hand and focused on the candles, trying to will fire from inside her.

“Fire,” she commanded, but nothing appeared. Releasing her stressed breath, she repeated, “Fire. Fire!” Bringing her hand to her chest in failure, she turned to Ciar, “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“It’s not your fault; your powers have retreated into dormancy, and you have no memory of who you are.” Ciar held his hand out to her. “Will you trust me?”

Immediately she took his hand and smiled, “Yes, I think I will.”

Ciar placed his hands over her head and closed his eyes, keenly focused on penetrating the deepest crevices of her mind. With little certainty of the outcome, he spoke the same unknown language—a desperate attempt to bring something of the past to the forefront of her mind. Placing his hand on her cheek, he lifted her face up to him, searching her eyes. “Do you remember anything now?”

She closed her eyes and searched her thoughts, but there was nothing new to find. As she was about to reply with disappointment, an aroma caught her nose. She inhaled deeply and spoke without thinking, “What is that scent?”

Ciar whiffed the air and followed the fragrance towards a broken window.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Quickly he plucked a flower from the vines creeping into the building and brought it to her, placing it under her nose.

“This is the night lily; it has always been a part of this realm.”

Deeply inhaling, her mind went blank as thoughts reeled out of control, mixed and jumbled, out of order and chaotic. But what mattered was that they were new to her now, from her past forgotten. A tear rolled down her face, and a smile bloomed from it. Her eyes opened with newfound hope.

“I know you, Ciar. Things are broken, but I know you.”

He returned a smile and closed his eyes in relief, “But do you know you?”

Her eyes searched the wall and focused on the candles. Reaching out her hand, she commanded, “Fire.” Still, nothing happened, but instead of dread, she filled with determination. “Fire.” Again, nothing. “Fire, fire.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, calming herself. Then she thought, ‘Fire’. For a moment a bright yellow flame danced on the wick before it vanished.

Seeing her hands in a new light, she became visibly troubled. “Why do you think my powers have become so weak?”

Ciar watched her as she contemplated to herself; she was still in the dark.

“Ciar?”

“I have an idea. Perhaps if you had my old wand, you could amplify your powers.”

Remembering the magical wand made specifically for his use, she nodded, “It could work, where is it?”

“Follow me.” As they walked the dead halls, the sound of Ciar’s bells echoed into the rafters. With each step, she became more familiar with her surroundings until she knew where they were headed.

“This was your dorm.” She enthusiastically recalled.

They had studied much in his room, as well as hers, which was adjacent. Ciar spoke an incantation, waving his hand across the doorway, and the strange purple glow reappeared.

“Ciar, what is this?”

“It’s a door to another time; go through it and you will be in my room of the past. Do you remember where I kept my wand?”

Confused, she nodded, “Yes, but how can you use such magic?”

He tried to focus her on the mission. “My magic is now very strong, stronger than ever, but that is currently of little importance. You must get the wand.”

“How isn’t it important? You’ve finally awakened your powers, that’s,” she smiled excitedly, “wonderful.”

“We can speak of it more after you return. Through-the-portal will look different from what you recall, but hurry... I cannot go with you.”

Almost pushing her towards the magical doorway, he stepped backward, jangling as she stepped through—into a familiar room filled with Ciar’s school-day belongings. The reality was not what she remembered; it was almost as if she were looking into his room through a dirty window, but it was the very atmosphere that was corrupt. Distracted by the haze, she barely registered another presence—a cold one closing in from the corners of the room. Its silent steps made of gnawing shadows. Ciar wasn’t there to keep them at bay, and her magic would not be strong enough to do so in her state.

Quickly, Thea focused on finding the wand. As the eeriness of her nightmares began slipping into reality, a glaring problem arose—she couldn’t remember where his wand was kept. Thea opened his closet and began searching through containers and boxes. She felt she’d know when she saw it, but recognized nothing. Scanning his desk and bureaus, she opened every container large enough to hold his wand, but still nothing. She could feel the shadows moving and whimpered as she frantically searched all his drawers—emptying the contents onto the ground before the darkness could reach her.

Then the light from the windows vanished, leaving the flickering ceiling lamp her last bastion, barely holding the shadows from swallowing her whole. Panting hard, Thea positioned herself underneath the failing light as she watched each bulb flicker out one by one until they were all dead. Her own breathing was all that existed, a quickening sound amplified, irregular, and panicked.

Feeling the cold gnashing at her feet and gnawing at the back of her neck, she commanded in a whisper, “Light.” She extended her arm upwards, “Light!” A bulb flickered only once, “LIGHT!” She screamed with both hands reaching for the lamp, causing all bulbs to shine so brightly the sun would envy. Scanning the room again, hope returned when she noticed a chest under the bed.

“That’s it.”

Still, with a hand extended to the bulbs, willing it with every fiber of her being to remain lit, she yanked the chest out and forced it open, revealing the prize. Scooping up the wand, she let her focus falter, causing the light to fade and the darkness closed in on her once again. Stumbling in the black over the mess she made, she tripped through the doorway only to be caught by Ciar, who gripped her tightly. “Why are you afraid of the dark?”