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“It is not nothing.” He growled, his voice serious. “You are amazing, and watching you come into your power is a privilege I do not deserve.”
21
Amon and I spent the rest of the day practicing. By the time evening came, I had the beginnings of a grasp on shadow walking.
“Can Kasha and Dossidian shadow walk?” I asked, as I practiced pulling the shadows into me, before allowing them to slip back away again, as if I were flexing a muscle. “I’ve never seen them do it before.”
“No, not all daemons can shadow walk, I wasn't sure if you would be able to do it either, but it seems that you are a natural.” He smiled, as I pulled the shadows in again, letting them swirl around at my feet, before releasing them back to their castors.
“Kasha and Dossidian have other skills. Dossidian’s powers are very… explosive. He typically sticks with hand-to-hand combat and only uses his powers when absolutely necessary. He can fly, but whereas you and I hover, when Dossidian flies, it's comparable to a rocket taking flight.” Amon chuckled. “It’s usually easier and safer for me to just shadow walk him in most cases. As far as Kasha goes, Dossidian tells me you already know about her special talent.” I glanced at him, letting him see that I did.
“Yes. It’s awful, what Ash Nevra did to her.” I said. Amon nodded.
“Indeed. There are many others still suffering the same fate under her reign.” His tone was dark and laced with disgust. I shivered; despite my perfectly curated climate I had created for myself.
He glanced at the sun's position, and I noticed that a balmy summer twilight had begun to descend upon the city. It was still light out, but the sky had taken on a lavender hue. It was getting late.
“If you would like to see Jeremy before we go, we should leave now.” He said, and I nodded.
“Let’s see if you can shadow walk us there to practice. I will be here to take over if you need me too.”
“Okay.” I said, feeling nervous. I stepped in close to him and called the shadows to us. They almost felt as if they were alive, and had an energy to them that felt eager, and excited to please. They clambered up our legs, gently pulling apart the molecules that made us. I pictured my house in my mind. I imagined my electric blue door, and asked the shadow particles to take us there, showing them the way in my mind’s eye.
The darkness latched onto its counterpart, and we moved at light speed, suddenly appearing before my front door, exactly where I had asked the shadows to take us.
‘Excellent, Raven,’ Amon’s voice curled through my mind.
Still hovering in a cloud of matter, I observed my surroundings. My street, which had more or less been torn apart in a magickal battle the last time I had been here, seemed to have undergone some repairs. The trees were still dead and brittle from when Conrad had sucked the water from them to save Meredith from Marcus, the fire mage.
However, many of my neighbors seemed to have made an effort to re-sod their lawns, as all the grass had met the same fate as the trees. I felt sad for the trees for a moment, and silently thanked them for their sacrifice before turning my attention back to my house.
‘Keep us in the shadows and take us through the house. I can feel Jeremy. He is sleeping in the living room.’ I tried to nod before I remembered that I currently did not have a corporeal form to do so. It was a strange feeling, one that I was unsure I would ever get used to.
I asked my shadows to tug us through the cracks in the front door and we spilled into the house. To my horror, the house was a mess. Stacks of papers and books spilled into the hallway leading into the kitchen and the adjoining living room. There were half empty pizza boxes and forgotten glassware strewn throughout the house. Our home had never been in such a state.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my shadows took us to where Jeremy lay, sprawled out on our ugly couch, or ‘chesterfield,’ as Clair had always called it. He was asleep on his back, with one leg straight out on the couch and the other bent, foot resting on the ground. He looked like he had been through hell and back. A book, titled ‘The Grand Design,’ by Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow was spread open on his chest, as if he had fallen asleep reading it.
He had lost weight. A great deal of weight for the couple of weeks I had been gone. His normally clean-shaven face was covered in a thick stubble, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. With sallow cheeks and dark bags forming beneath his eyes, he looked so broken, I would have wept if I had the body to do so.
‘Place your trace on him,’ Amon’s disembodied voice urged. I did my best to comply. Carefully, I asked my shadows to allow me to rematerialize, just enough to place the trace. I allowed it to form on the tip of my fingers as they resolidified, before placing the small knot from my aura on Jeremy’s forehead. I leaned down and kissed the place where I had left the trace softly.
“I love you.” I whispered, and he frowned in his sleep. “I will come home soon. I promise.” My voice cracked and I knew if I stayed any longer, I would risk waking him up, or I wouldn’t be able to leave him again at all. As if sensing my distress, my shadows clamored back around me, pulling me into space, before flowing Amon and I out through the cracks in the back door.
I lost my grip on the darkness and materialized back into my body by Clair’s garden, a sob rattling in my chest. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I fell to my knees, as I fought against the overwhelming urge to cry.
Then, just when I thought I had gotten a grip on myself, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small forgotten pouch filled with sunflower seeds, and I fell apart.
The pain of my grief rolled through me in waves, and I could not contain it. My shoulders shook and I wept into my hands. I felt Amon kneel next to me. He reached out tentatively, wrapping his warm hands around my wrists to tug my hands away from my face.
“Hey,” he said softly, as he pulled me into him. I resisted briefly, before giving in and allowing him to fold me into his chest. I buried my face in his neck and he held me while I cried. He rubbed my back in those soft circles he had used to calm me from my nightmare and made soothing sounds, as he rocked me.
“I know, I know,” he whispered against my hair, squeezing me tight. “I know.”
I had no concept of time, and I was not sure how long he held me for. It felt like hours. He held me until my sobs finally slowed, and there were no more tears. He held me until every drop of sorrow had spilled from me, and I felt that I could breathe again.
Finally, I pulled away, and he cupped the side of my face, using his thumb to wipe away my tears.
“We were supposed to plant those,” I told him, gesturing to the small sack of seeds. “We were supposed to plant those together, before she died.”
