Dark Children

ONEDisconnect-2

Ordinarily, she would have returned the scrier’s affections, but her mind felt fuzzy.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Kirika, abruptly ceasing the ministrations to her hair. ‘You seem conflicted.’

‘I am.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Kirika, ‘I assume this is to do with our previous conversation, before you left to assist the outlying communities?’

‘Yes.’ she replied, followed by a weary sigh. ‘I thought that time away from the vale would give me some breathing space, allowing me to make sense of everything that has happened to me since my arrival.’

‘That is rather a lot to process in such a short period of time, or so I would imagine.’

‘Yes, it is.’ she replied, laughing awkwardly to herself.

‘Rayna, you can talk to me.’

can‘I know. It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘I feel awkward and confused.’

‘Of course you do. You were born male. Recently, you became female, you are now attracted to someone of the opposite gender, formerly your own – an individual who once loathed you, may I add – and have been pulled into a completely different world, whose problems you have decided to shoulder. Furthermore, you believe that you are an agent of release, for some ancient, all-powerful, entity, within which you believe that our world resides.’ explained Kirika in a tongue-in-cheek manner, defying her normally polite disposition.

Kirika’s blunt and unexpected assessment left her dumbfounded. The compassionate, modest and politically astute scrier was typically reserved in her responses. However, she had noticed a growing confidence in Kirika’s demeanour since the scrier’s appointment to the newly reformed ruling council.

‘In all seriousness, if you need to talk, I am always here for you.’

‘I know…I appreciate it. If I’m being completely honest, I still haven’t fully come to terms with this new facade of mine – I still feel like a lodger.’

‘Based on what you told me, Alarielle gave up her claim to that body when she chose to move on to the Everlife – it is rightfully yours now. Nathaniel, her father, your adopted father, has accepted this. The Blades, Knights Thranis, your friends, all have accepted you for who you are. Indeed, the only person yet to fully embrace your altered form is yourself.’

yours‘You’re right, I know this, yet I still wrestle with this new guise of mine every cycle. I thought I had a handle on it, but Alarielle’s parting gift, worsened by the lack of a good crisis to distract me, has knocked me back a few steps. All this time to think has only left me feeling more confused – I don’t know how to move forward.’

‘Rayna, it is time to let go of your past, indefinitely. The memories that you harbour tether you to a place of great darkness. The emotions that they foster, anger, hatred and revenge, served you well during times of war, but that time has ended. Freylar needs to heal, as do you. Let go and embrace the bright future that you have worked so hard to achieve – you deserve it.’

‘But my grimy past has shaped who I am today.’

‘Yes, who you are. There is no longer a need to dwell on who you were. You have reconciled your past demons – it is time to move on. Alarielle’s gift is not a curse, nor was it ever intended to torment you – at least, that is my belief.’

arewere‘Then what is it?’

‘Is it not plain to see? Alarielle removed the barriers in your mind, previously holding you back in this new form of yours. She gave you the gift of freedom, allowing you to move on.’

She stared vacantly into the mirror, considering Kirika’s words carefully whilst absentmindedly observing her feminine visage. Kirika was right – as was typically the case. The barriers holding her back had been removed, with the exception of one: the barrier of her own making. She had reached a nexus in her new life. To progress any further, she needed to take a leap of faith into the unknown.

‘That settles it.’ she said, ardently. ‘I’m going to talk to him!’

‘You mean Lothnar?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know. I have only just decided to--’

‘How about this cycle?’

‘What!’

‘Are you scared?’

‘No.’

‘Then it is settled.’

‘Kirika!’

‘So then, how to wear your hair?’

‘Is that really important?’

‘Of course it is; you are good with your blades, but there are other weapons that you still need to master – I am certain that Larissa and I have imparted this valuable lesson to you many times before.’

‘I may have glossed over those particular sermons. I was never a typical student; speak to Nathaniel, he will attest to that fact.’

Kirika laughed, before sliding the comb down the length of her hair once more. Despite her head being jerked and wrenched by Kirika’s ministrations, removing the knots from her hair was a therapeutic experience. Admittedly, she was lazy when it came to personal grooming – a failing that she needed to correct – and had done very little as Callum during her former life. Fortunately, Kirika was always more than happy to help. Since her arrival in Freylar, they had become like sisters, freely sharing their innermost thoughts with one another. Kirika was always very critical of her appearance, setting the bar high when it came to one’s own presentation. Still, having a personal stylist was no bad thing; Kirika’s keen sense of fashion plugged the gaps in her own skillset.

‘You would be lost without me.’ said Kirika, jovially.

‘Certainly dishevelled!’

‘That too.’

They laughed, like a pair of adolescent, giggling school girls, before a loud knock come from the door to their tree.

‘I had better go and see who it is.’ she said, quickly rising from her chair. ‘Nathaniel left early for the arena – as he so often does.’

She stood up, oblivious to the comb still clinging to her hair, which Kirika quickly retrieved. She hurried down the curved wooden stairs leading to the main ground floor living space, hoping to catch their visitor in time. Pulling open the door, a slender female, accompanied by a young child – presumably the daughter – stood before her. She focused her attention on the mother, whose wide-eyed expression was one of both hope and sorrow, curious as to their sudden visit.

‘Hello. Can I help you?’

‘Not me.’ replied the mother, directing her gaze towards the young child. ‘This is my daughter, Rarni. She requires your assistance. Specifically, we need your help to contact Kirika, so that--’

‘Rayna, who is it?’ asked Kirika, who came bounding down the stairs, still clutching the comb in her hand.

‘Kirika!’ cried the mother, suddenly. ‘It is you. Please, will you help my daughter? I do not know what to do.’

‘Callum, to be completely frank, this is your last opportunity within the system. You have been bouncing around, in and out of different children’s homes, for a while now, which has lead you to us – your final stop.’

The venerable man sitting opposite him leaned forwards, placing his elbows on the wooden desk between them, before slowly resting his head upon his interlocked fingers.

‘Indeed, we have both come to the end of the line; I will be retiring soon and you are now seventeen, bordering on adulthood – you have less than a year.’

The man opposite him held his gaze with an unwavering stare. No doubt, the home’s director of operations had hosted countless such meetings over the decades, inducting an endless stream of waifs sent to the facility for processing. He wondered if such a career path was fulfilling, or whether it slowly chipped away at one’s soul, grinding away all vestiges of motivation and empathy, until only indifference remained.

‘I am not here to judge you, Callum. Life is hard enough without the opinions of others weighing you down. Besides, everyone’s story is a familiar one to me now. However, the sobering fact remains that the system will be closing its doors to you soon. How quickly that happens depends on your actions during your stay with us.’

The Director suddenly rose from his chair, before walking over to the dingy office’s only window.

‘If you adhere to this facility’s rules, you could spend up to a year with us, giving you time to make arrangements for the future. However, should you choose to disregard them, your time with us will be cut short. In that scenario, you will not be considered for further placement. The system will conveniently delay your processing – I have seen it, many times before – until you turn eighteen. That is the grim truth of it, Callum. I am being completely transparent with you.’ explained The Director, who was clearly disinterested whilst gazing out the window.

‘I see.’ he said, acknowledging The Director’s cold words.

‘I have done this job for as long as I can remember. I have seen countless boys like you, each come and go. There was a time when it broke my heart to see your ilk end up out there, on the streets. However, over the years, I have reluctantly become desensitised to it all.’

There was a pause in their one-sided conversation whilst something outside caught The Director’s eye. He took the opportunity to glance around the office. Except for a clock and a couple of shelves, the walls were bare. There were no indications of any personal interests or photos of family or friends dotted around, nor any sign of a wedding band on The Director’s finger. From what he could ascertain, either The Director kept his personal life just that, or he simply did not have one. Whatever the cause of The Director’s brief distraction, it did not last, and he soon sat back down, assuming his previous position.

‘What do you hope to achieve here, Callum?’ the man asked bluntly.

‘In truth, I haven’t really given it any thought.’ he replied, concerned that his apathetic response would tarnish his initial standing. ‘Sorry.’

‘Well, at least your answer is genuine. I would appreciate it if we remained candid with one another during your time here.’

He nodded in response, signalling his agreement.

‘Good.’ replied The Director. ‘As with any facility of our nature, we have our share of difficult residents. Do yourself a favour, Callum. Stay away from Sebastian and his merry little band of sheep. Any entanglement with them will not serve you well.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You owe me no thanks. The system placed you in my care – the same system responsible for the defamation of your social class. You have a hard road ahead of you, Callum. I suggest that you use what little time you have with us to plan your next move. The streets are harsh; most do not make it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I used to review the ongoing progress of the residents after leaving the care of this facility. Most disappeared, or were the subject of autopsy reports that I bore witness to. After a decade of it, I began sending others in my stead.’

‘I understand.’

‘Indeed, I am certain that you have witnessed such atrocities already, despite your youth. Even so, burn this lesson into your mind, Callum. It may be the only one that you need to stay alive.’

‘I appreciate the forewarning. I am not looking for trouble.’

‘I do not suppose for one moment that you are. However, some people attract the wrong sort of attention, regardless. Besides, you are Shadow class – trouble will come looking for you, whether you choose to seek it out or not. Even so, try not to hasten its arrival.’

Turning his head towards the dirty window, his gaze lingered on the polluted sky whilst he considered the bleak sermon he had received. Despite the blunt delivery, The Director’s words rung true. From an early age, after the loss of his parents, he knew the time would eventually come when the system would close its doors to him. The thought of leaving the system was both terrifying and exhilarating. He had spent most of his adolescent life within the system, shunted between numerous children’s homes, none of which had felt like home. Then again, what was home, he mused. The promise of something new was truly exciting, and yet equally frightening. Where would he go, how would he earn a living, how would he survive? All were questions for which he had no answers. During the few occasions that he had spoken about the matter with other members of the Shadow class already living off the streets, he had been met with disdainful looks or was shunned entirely. The hostile encounters left him wondering if his people simply did whatever was required to survive, regardless of ethics – that was the part that scared him the most. He was no saint and had been in his fair share of scrapes over the years. However, despite these incidents, he still maintained a strong sense of what was right and wrong. He had never pushed his personal beliefs onto others, but had tried hard to adhere to his own code of morality.

The light in the room began to fade, waking him from his bleak reverie. He turned his attention back to The Director, who was now slumped back in his chair staring vacantly at an empty glass on his desk. He felt no hostility from the man, nor any empathy. The Director was in the twilight of his career. He sensed that the man had become hollow due to his experiences, his soul depleted by all that he had witnessed over the decades. He pitied The Director; it could not be easy realising that one’s life work had been largely pointless. Still, regardless of the facility’s post-care success rate, helping others in need was, in his mind at least, always a worthy cause.

‘When I leave here, there will be no autopsy report with my name on it – I intend to survive.’

The Director fixed him with an intense stare, narrowing his eyes slightly. After a long pause, the man stood up, abruptly, before offering to shake his hand.

‘Good, see that you do. I would like to retire on a high note.’

He rose from his chair and shook The Director’s hand with a firm grip.

‘Let us get you settled in.’