shadows

the second beginning (1)

The second beginning was at the hospital.

A woman in a dark blue dress greeted him when he awoke. She was pretty. Older, but not by much. Was maybe twenty. And had a beautiful smile. She was the prettiest person he had ever seen. Even if it was probably because she was the first person to have ever smiled at him.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “You’re awake. You were asleep for a while. We almost decided to call you sleeping beauty. It’s been four days. And let me have the honour of letting you know. You are alive.”

He nodded. Not to say that he understood. Yes, he was alive. He could see that. He could feel that. The pain was all too familiar. The pain was also all telling. It reminded him of what happened. They were on the highway. He was in the back. They were driving a good speed. Even he could tell that from the back. When he saw the truck, it was driving along a straight line. Showed nothing wrong. He blinked. And that momentary blindness was enough to envelop all that went wrong. The truck was veering. It was driving toward the car. And the car kept going straight, as if the driver hadn’t even seen the truck, or wasn’t able to react. The exact moment Anton was thrown out of his seat into the seatbelt pulling him back was also the moment the truck crashed into the car. Into him.

Yes. He was alive.

“I’m Milan,” she said, offering her hand. He took it. Shook it. And let go. And she smiled wider. “I know, pretty much all about you. And yet, I insist. Tell me your name.”

“I’m Anton,” he said. Offering his hand. She took it. Shook it. And didn’t let go.

“Tell me,” she said. “What’s in that head of yours right now.”

“We’re here because of what has been happening to me,” he said. She nodded. And he continued. “Ever since that day. My birthday. Something changed inside me. Do you know what it is?”

“I do. I can tell you. Or, I can help you understand for yourself. Which do you prefer?”

That was an easy question. All his life he’d been figuring things out by himself. If there was an opportunity to have someone just tell him, he would love that.

“Tell me,” he said. “I would like that. Very much.”

“It’s a long story,” she said. She let go of his hand. And sat down on the bed instead. Leaning over. So her face was inches from his. And her face filled his eyes. “There’s more to the world than you’ve been used to all these years.”

She was, of course, exaggerating. The story was long. But not that long. Not long enough that he had to brace himself.

The world he had seen so far, that he had lived, was the daytime. A long time ago, when the gods walked the world, it was different. There was order. The last thing the gods did before disappearing was draw a clear line. Pass an immutable law. Day belonged to the regular people, who lived in innocent ignorance. The rest were banished to the nighttime. To the shadows. And there were so many of them.

The regular people who could see more. They were the sages.

The witches who had inherited the texts of the ancients. They believed they had the blood of the ancients flowing through their veins. Why else could they feel the magic of the ancients?

The elementals who were the awakened, who could feel the elemental magic with their physical sensory organs.

And then, there were the Shuuto. The other-worlders. No one knew where they came from. Or when. There was no record of the Shuuto in the old texts. And then, they were here, among everyone.

Lastly, though this wasn’t something everyone believed, was the traces of the gods. There had never been any verifiable evidence of these traces. It was something that wasn’t discussed openly, outside of likeminded friends.

“You awakened,” Milan said at the end. “You’re one of us now. An elemental. What happened on that day, your fourteenth birthday, we know. After we found you, we went looking. And we found out. What happened on that day broke the last seal inside you. Made you aware of your full potential. Made you an elemental.”

He nodded again. Very faintly. It was enough. Any more wouldn’t be comfortable, or safe. Her face was too close.

He remembered that day. His birthday. He was hurt. In so much pain, it numbed him. He couldn’t feel anything after the first few punches. He just felt numb all over, when he woke up alone behind the gymnasium. That told him what he needed to know. He was hurt. He couldn’t feel anything. Not just in his body. But outside too. He felt nothing for the school. And so, he didn’t have to stay. He picked himself up and headed home.

On the way back, he came to another realisation. Something had changed. Something was wrong with his eyes. He was seeing people, but their faces, the features, were hazy. Instead it was like he was seeing a translucent mask pulled over the faces. If it was just one or two or even just a few, it would have been okay. But everyone? The problem was clearly his. The faces of the servants at home were worse. The masks were truly horrid. He ran into his room. Locked himself in. And since there was no reason to go back out, he never left.

He still saw them through the window. He was careful to not be seen himself. The curtains were always drawn shut. So, no one could look in. He opened the smallest slit to look out. After a few weeks, he got accustomed to the masks. They didn’t surprise him anymore. After a few more weeks, he learned to control it. Though not entirely. He began to understand. The masks were actually on the inside. They revealed the thoughts of the person, toward others they were looking at or thinking about. The masks revealed the inner thoughts. And that explained why they were all so horrid when everyone looked at him. He understood more clearly than ever, just how hated he was.

He couldn’t turn it off. Which was why he was so surprised and so out of sorts right now. The mask underneath Milan’s face was prettier than her face. Revealed how much she liked him. It was something he wasn’t accustomed to. Someone liking him.

“Now, the big question,” she said. “What did you awaken?”